


Touched For The Very First Time

by AnonymousVow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, First Time, Mention of sex toys, Oral, Past America/others (mentioned only), Riding, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1525883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousVow/pseuds/AnonymousVow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England's like a virgin, but there's nothing blushingly bridal about her. De-anon from kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touched For The Very First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _England has his reputation as the erotic ambassador, and he certainly knows plenty about sex and has mastered the art of masturbation, he's just never actually had sex with anyone._
> 
>  
> 
> _Cue him being in a relationship with America, who is not a virgin, and they reach that point where they get so hot and heavy that they take it to the bedroom. USUK in that order, please! AUs are fine if you prefer, just no blushy blushy overly uke England!_
> 
>  
> 
> Title from the Madonna song.

England was an intensely sexual person, for all that she hid it under the guise of “British propriety”, “Victorian sensibilities”, modest clothing, and a deliberate refusal to laugh at sex jokes. That was England-in-public. England-in-private had an extensive collection of pornography, an equally extensive collection of adult toys, and a thorough knowledge of her own sexual desires and kinks. And for all that she never acknowledged her own sexuality to anyone else, somehow everyone knew the truth. They called her the ‘erotic ambassador’, sniggering over her days as a pirate queen and over her and France’s ‘chunnel’, how an empire like her must have gotten lots of international experience.   
  
The fact that she was a virgin didn’t really stop any of the above from being true.   
  
The thing was, she had never really felt the overwhelming need to actually have sex with another person. Well, yes, she had been attracted to others, but the downsides had always far outweighed that desire, and anyway her own hands and fingers could adequately sooth the yearning in between her legs. So the years rolled on, as did she, an ice queen as virgin as her own Bess. (oh, beloved Bess! She had understood. She had sympathized.)   
  
And then, America.   
  
Golden-haired, blue-eyed America, driving her mad with love and fear and anger for centuries. America with his wide smile and his blazing energy, his bravery and his fire, his hidden intelligence and his rare poetry. America who had so obviously loved her for centuries as well, who she’d had to drive away for fear of giving into his hungry eyes and yearning words, who had been so hurt by her rejection he had thrown himself straight into Revolution. America who had defied his own government to come to her aid in the Great Wars, America who loved her people and works and words as he loved his own, America who had gone to war for and against and because of her. Just - _her_ America, always.   
  
So they had danced around each other for centuries, fighting and feinting and faking and fools, and finally England had had enough. She couldn’t stand the denial any longer. For the first time, she had wanted someone more than she had distrusted them. She apologized mentally to the unicorns, and prayed that her people would not suffer under unthinking American dominance over England, but she loved America. She loved him, and she wanted to be with him.   
  
The look of absolute joy that came on his face when she told him so was almost enough, by itself, to justify her decision.   
  
The way he treated her after was enough - more than enough - to do so completely.   
  
He was sweet - tender and open in a way she hadn’t seen for years, not since a small Colony would gallop up to her proclaiming how much he’d missed her. But this sweetness was tempered and deepened with maturity, a grown Nation with his beloved rather than a child who had never known anything else with his caregiver. She had feared giving him power over her, but it was soon clear to anyone with eyes - including England - that she held power over him as well. She had loved him before, but everyday since she had admitted that, she loved him more, and better, and for new reasons.   
  
...that said, she was getting a bit tired of his gentleness.  
  
It wasn’t like she disliked it. She loved it, actually. And it wasn’t like he was being saccharine or condescending about it - they still snarked at one another, they still joked and criticized, and he had never once treated her like a damsel in distress - even during WW2 he had handled himself with a rough camaraderie that was more ‘helping out my friend’ than ‘rescuing the helpless’, for all his hero bluster. She had known what was show and what was real.   
  
That was all well and good, but maybe she wanted a bit of roughness. Maybe she wanted a bit of being deliciously dominated by her gorgeous superpower. Maybe she wanted him to push her against a wall and kiss her like he wanted to devour her, to leave her with no choice but to drown in pleasure.   
  
Maybe she wanted to have sex with him, goddammit.   
  
Oh, they’d had snogging sessions - like teenagers, necking and kissing and laying on top of each other. She knew she affected him, she had felt his erection pressing against her more than once. The problem was everytime she did, he immediately stopped and scrambled away. The problem was his hands never went further than slightly under her top, never below her navel or near her chest. The problem was he was obviously waiting for her to give him permission. He was waiting for her to make the first move. Which was sweet, but...  
  
Finally, she’d had enough. They were at a world council meeting, held this time in Rome - the Italian twins hosting. The food was predictably delicious and the agenda predictably fucked up even more than usual. Germany was at the podium desperately trying to induce order, France was hitting on Seychelles, Switzerland was fighting with Austria, Prussia was - hm. That was unusual. Prussia was speaking quietly with Belarus, the two silver heads bent close together as they conversed. They were one of the few pockets of quiet in the hall.   
  
After she made sure no one was near enough to see her screen, England took out her iPhone (a present from America, customized with an enhanced battery, special apps, and St. George’s Cross laser-engraved on the back) and texted her boyfriend.   
  
“Let’s have sex after the meeting.”  
  
She watched surreptitiously as America took his own phone out, feeling a surge of delight as his eyes grew wide and his jaw actually dropped. She could see a flush visibly creeping its way up his neck and to the tips of his ears. He looked up at her, and she smiled invitingly. At that, a heated look came into his eyes, shocking and exciting her. She kept her gaze locked with his until the vibration of her iPhone distracted her.  
His reply was even more succinct than her invitation.  
  
“Fuck yes.”   
  
***   
  
By the time they got to her hotel room (it was marginally closer than America’s, which was the deciding factor) they were both thoroughly aroused already. England was astonished at the change in America. The patient, hesitant boy was replaced with a passionate, driven lover - he had barely been able to keep his eyes off her all throughout the meeting, staring heatedly at her without pause. England was beginning to realize the amount of self-control America had been rigidly enforcing on himself.

They took a cab back, although they had ridden to the meeting together in America’s rented car, and they’d gone further in that cab’s backseat than they ever had in their own rooms. America was insatiable, his mouth everywhere, his hands roaming. For the first time she’d been the one to tell him to slow down - not wanting to give the driver too much of a show. He’d backed off immediately, breathing hard, his pupils already dilating. It was ridiculous how the mere sight of his face like that could make her throb with want.  
  
She straddled his lap, rocked her hips against his. “I just don’t want to show anyone else how I look with my top off,” she whispered, her own breathing heavy. “But...but keep doing what you were doing, otherwise, please.”  
  
America’s moan made her shiver.  
  
The cab driver, sounding very amused, had to tell them when they arrived; they hadn’t noticed. They were too intent on each other to feel ashamed. They scrambled out of the cab, America flinging enough money at the cabbie to have paid for their ride five times over; the driver sang out a happy thanks and sincerely wished them an amazing amount of sex.   
  
They made out in the elevator, and they made out in the hallway where England’s room was, until England regained her senses enough to push America away - temporarily - so she could find her keycard. The displeased growl America let out made her shudder so hard she almost dropped her key.  
  
And then they were inside the room, and America slammed her against the wall even as the door was swinging shut behind them, grinding his erection into her.  
  
“Fuck. _Fuck_ , England,” he moaned, as she tipped her head back in ecstasy. He nipped at the smooth pale skin of her throat.   
  
“Bed,” England gasped, although making no movement towards that direction herself. She gasped again when America picked her up with no visible strain, wrapping her legs and arms around him and shivering happily at the careless strength.  
  
Soon enough they were naked and entwined on England’s king-sized bed - a bed she had specifically requested in the hopes of getting America in it.   
  
“Gonna fuck you,” America rasped in her ear, his voice low and throaty in a way she had never heard before. “Gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” His cock was sliding up and down her entrance, not quite penetrating but getting slicked with her own fluids. “Gonna fuck you...fuck you until you feel me inside you, all day tomorrow, you’re gonna remember me and my cock so deep inside you you’d think I was never getting out again, and every time you sit down or stand up or move your body’s gonna think I was still there...”  
  
England listened, could imagine it, remembered the feeling after a session with her particularly favorite toys, but this would be more, this would be better, this would be America and all his ridiculous, world-breaking power, and she was excited and...  
  
...and a little scared. Just a little.   
  
“America,” she said, mumbled against his lips as he tried to kiss her again. “America, wait. America....”  
  
His cock was beginning, finally, to slip inside her.  
  
“America, I’ma _virgin!_ ” she blurted out.  
  
America hurled himself off her as if she had suddenly turned into lava, so fast and so far he actually toppled off the side of the bed. Blinking dazedly, he sat up and stared at her.  
  
“...what?” He sputtered, looking like she’d just slapped him with a wet fish. “But you - they said...”  
  
“Rumors of my experience,” England said, dryly, wit coming back to her as arousal ebbed, and not really happy with the trade, “have been greatly exaggerated.”   
  
America was still gaping. “But - pirate queen! Empire!”  
  
“Precisely. Do you think it would have been easy to maintain control over a crew of burly, thuggish, hairy men if they thought they could just bed me like they did to the wenches in the dockside taverns? Do you think an empress’s bed isn’t a place of potential power - and betrayal? It could be done, of course. But why bother, when no one was really worth the danger?”   
  
“But - “  
  
“You,” she said, firmly, but blushing, “Are the first person I’ve ever loved enough to want this. And - I know you loved me before. I - I loved you too. But that was why I drove you away, because back then I couldn’t bear the thought of exposing myself like - like this.” She motioned to her naked self, gratified when America’s eyes track down her body.   
  
“I’m ready now,” she said, softly, voice a little more vulnerable than she meant it to be.   
  
America’s eyes softened, and he climbed back onto the bed. England was displeased to see his erection had disappeared.   
  
“Jeez, England,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “This is sort of a - a huge shock! I mean...”  
  
England felt a sudden flare of annoyance, backed with a small feeling of humiliation and fear that he’d laugh. England the virgin! England the thousand-year-old untouched!   
  
“I do apologize if my lack of sexual feats have rendered me undesirable,” she snapped, voice as icy as it had ever been. “Forgive me for puncturing your dreams with the fact that I am a virgin and not an - an erotic adventuress!”  
  
America jolted and scrambled over to hold her hands. “What? No, England! _God_ , no.” He laughed, somewhat self-deprecatingly, tightening his hold a bit as she squirmed. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been torturing myself at night thinking I won’t measure up to your previous lovers. I’ve been chewing on my jealousy for years, thinking about how everyone else could have been...with you. And a selfish part of me is really glad I’m the first.”   
  
England slowly relaxed as America spoke, knowing what he meant about jealousy and worry. Unlike him, she knew, with factual certainty, about his own experience, at least some of it. Her intelligence services were older and more experienced than his, by far, and she’d set them to watching her wayward colony - her almost-lover - since he had broken away. She knew about Mexico, and the intermittent trysts between the two that were always half-dance and half-fight. She knew about the one drunken night he’d had with Canada. She knew about America and Monaco, because France had complained so loudly about it, and she had always wondered whether Grace Kelly had entranced Prince Rainier because Monaco was sleeping with America, or whether America was sleeping with Monaco because all of a sudden he’d been paying so much attention to the country of his new princess. England knew about Israel, and she had to admit she’d had a great deal to do with making sure the relationship between the two cooled to something less intimate. And she’d worried, too, about having to measure up to his more experienced lovers.   
  
“But,” America continued, and England forced her attention back to him, “I am sorry about pushing myself on you like that, because I wouldn’t have if I’d known you were a virgin.”  
  
“I wanted you to,” England replied, a bit of her annoyance seeping through her tone. “I’d thought it was obvious I wanted you to. And, virgin doesn’t necessarily mean inexperienced, at least in my case. I’ve been watching humans and Nations fornicate for over a thousand years...”  
  
“That’s not the same as actually...” America tried to say, only for his eyes to bulge when England added, “ _And_ you can have orgasms without a partner, you know. I’ve had a thousand years of pleasuring myself as well, so I know what it feels like to have something big and hard inside me, for one thing. Maybe it wasn’t living flesh, but still.”  
  
America was still silent, mouth moving soundlessly. England was pleased to see, when she glanced downwards, proof of his reawakening interest.   
  
“ _Ah_ ,” America said, in a strangled manner. England actually giggled, feeling the escape of tension, and reassured by physical evidence that he found her desirable.   
  
America groaned, and then he surged forward, knocking her to the bed once again with his weight on top of her. England sighed happily, glad to know they were back on track, and resolving to not interrupt him any further. Then she squawked in surprise as he slithered his way downwards, forcing her legs apart so that he could push his face between them.  
  
“Ameri- _ca_!” she said, her voice rising on the last syllable as he began licking at her. America stopped his ministrations long enough to grin cheekily up at her, and England was as much relieved by the fact that he could be cheeky as she was excited by what that grin meant for her future.   
  
Oh, he was good with his mouth. It seemed his fixation on food had a benefit, because he ate her out like a professional, his fingers joining in on the fun and filling her, so much thicker and longer than her own, so much warmer and alive than her toys. England moaned, gasped, her hips jolting up without conscious thought. And then he suckled on her swollen clit and she squealed, too far gone in pleasure to care about the wanton and shameless nature of her cries.   
  
She threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging on it in unconscious rhythm with America’s tongue and fingers. Her fingers spasmed every so often as a wave of pleasure overloaded her nerves.   
  
“F...fuck, oh fuck, America, _yes_ , please, _oh_...” she panted, her feet and the back of her legs skidding against the sweat-slick expanse of his back. And then she was arching her back, screaming as the most intense orgasm she’d ever had wiped her mind clear of thought.

When she came back to earth America was hovering over her, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her face with frantic speed. She smiled lazily, sated, and reached down to give him a much-deserved hand - blinking in surprise when her hand encountered something less hard than she had expected, and also just a bit more wet.   
  
“I came,” America confirmed, breathlessly, thrusting against her hand nonetheless and that half-hardness beginning to swell again. “...so fucking hot, England, your face, your voice, oh fuck...!”   
  
England couldn’t help but smile at his obvious enthusiasm, finding she enjoyed the sensation of him slowly coming to life within her stroking palm. “Did you really, darling? But I can feel you want more....” She squeezed and he let out a rough groan, shuddering.   
  
She pushed against his chest and he obediently rolled onto his back, too enamored with her hand on his cock to think of anything else. And when she climbed on top of him, he was inside her before he could protest or warn her to go slow.  
  
“Ah!” He bucked his hips automatically, and England answered with a pleasured moan.   
  
She rode him like one of his own cowgirls, rougher and less gathered than one of her own equestrians, more wind-swept ranges and wild horses than well-kept grounds and thoroughbreds. He was overwhelmed, staring up at her with wide, worshipping eyes, gritting his teeth hard as she came with an explosive shout. He tried to hold out, show off his endurance, but her face and the feel of her rippling and squeezing around him was too much and he soon followed her into climax.  
  
***  
  
“Okay,” America gasped, a few minutes later, still inside her as she lay collapsed and equally spent on his chest. “So you’re not exactly a tender and delicate virgin. More a really hot, really knowing, really sexy virgin.”   
  
“Told you,” she mumbled into his pectorals.   
  
“So. Maybe I can still do a little of what I promised earlier?” he half-asked.   
  
She smirked and felt a little warmth grow in the pit of her stomach. “Hm. Maybe.”   
  
“Fuckin’ A,” America sighed, closing his eyes.   
  
“Cuddling first, though,” England demanded, nuzzling him insistently.   
  
“Baby, we can cuddle all you want.” Somehow, England made virginity and cuddling a lot sexier than they had been before.   
  
***  
  
America did, in fact, fulfill his initial promises, and they didn’t go to the world conference. However, this was less because of England’s difficulty in walking and more because they had awoken to find a bunch of curious unicorns and fairies staring at them.  
  
England had been ecstatic, having expected to lose her unicorns, at least, when she lost her virginity. She’d made her peace with it, but it was beautiful to have been wrong.   
  
America, who could suddenly see the unicorns and fairies, freaked the fuck out.   
  
“It’s because he drank the essence of England,” opined one fairy, solemnly, as America climbed the headboard and gibbered in fear. “Now he can see us.” 


End file.
